


The Games We Used to Play

by orphan_account



Series: Kyman Week 2018 [1]
Category: South Park, South Park: The Stick of Truth - Fandom
Genre: (a tinge), (with heidi/eric), Angst, Arranged Marriage, Court Politics, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, Eric is an old geezer, F/M, Funeral, M/M, Mutual Pining, Old Age, Post-Break Up, Stick of Truth AU, Unresolved Romantic Tension, While Kyle is an immortal elf, star-crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 11:32:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15118499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sometimes, we don't always get a happy ending.





	The Games We Used to Play

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: Games

"All rise for Queen Heidi of Zaron, the Once and Former Consort of the Grand Wizard King Eric of Zaron!"  
  
The horns blared, and the procession began. All along the sides, the late Queen's former subjects stood silent, draped in black as the watched the large team of strong, white, thoroughbred horses carry her coffin down the paved road. There were knights, and trumpet men, and a full retinue of noblemen walking behind the carriage. Grief was palpable in the air, as Heidi was well loved throughout her long reign as Consort.  
  
All in all, it was a funeral fit for a Queen, and a Queen she was.  
  
Eric, however, could hardly give a damn.  
  
The elderly King walked in front of the carriage, head held high. There were many who wanted him to take his own litter, feigning concern for his aching bones in his old age. His advisors tittered, sniveling about what a tragedy it would be for him to fall on a day such as this. He knew the real reason though - they thought that they could seize the advantage, thinking him emotionally distraught and vulnerable from his wife's death, and try to manipulate him into taking a step back. Getting in that litter would mark the beginning of the end of his rule, and he would replaced by the puppet king that they so chose. Most likely by his insipid son.  
  
What those advisors failed to consider, though, was the fact that Eric cared not one bit about Heidi. She was useful in keeping the peace, earning the love of his subjects, as well as giving him an heir so the council would stop having such a hissy fit over it, but on the whole, Eric felt nothing for the dumb whore. Thus, when the question was posed to him, he threw their manipulations back in their faces, and defiantly took his rightful place leading the rest of the court.  
  
After all, if Eric couldn't even handle a short walk, then he deserved to fall and break open his head. Only the worthy could bear the weight of the Crown, in his view. Thus, when his wrinkled hands started to shake from the exertion, he forced them to be still, and when the procession finally arrived at their destination, he showed no sign of relief. His face was blank, devoid of any and all emotion. Then again, this was hardly a surprise to those present. It had been this way for as long as they could remember.  
  
Yet, when their King walked up to take his spot next to the High Priest, for the first time in many decades, there was a flash of something in his eyes. Most mistook it as grief for the deceased remains of the woman laying bare before him, but that gaze was focused on someone else entirely.  
  
Words flowed in and out of his ears as the Priest spoke, giving his blessings to the dead corpse below. He didn't hear a word of it, for all of his attentions zeroed in on a head of vibrant red hair.  
  
That damned Elf. After all these years, he didn't look a day older than one and twenty. Stupid pointy-eared bastards and their immortality, it wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that the ginger still looked as fresh and handsome as he did over fifty years ago, it wasn't fair that his skin was still as smooth as silk and pale as a pearl, or that his hair was still glossy and curly and red, oh, that beautiful, beautiful red! It wasn't fair! Eric was a shriveled up old prune, while Kyle was still in his prime! The mere thought of it infuriated him, so much so that some of this fury slipped through the cracks of his stoic facade.  
  
Clenching his fists, Eric was so engrossed in his envy for the Elf King's good looks that he nearly didn't notice it when the High Priest turned to him. He was supposed to give his eulogy.  
  
Luckily, he had been in this game for quite some time, so he handily took to the podium and gave his spiel about how his late wife had lived a good life and contributed much in her reign and how she would be missed by all and blah blah blah. Honestly, he just wanted the whole thing to end already, it was so horribly dull and cliche. The sky was gloomy and overcast, the rain was falling down in a heavy downpour, drenching the mourners who were pretending to cry, dabbing their faces with a handkerchief. Hell, even the so-called Crown Prince was a pathetic sight, whimpering like the weak ass bitch he was into his daughter-in-law's shoulder. Eric truly despaired for the Kingdom when he died, for that incompetent fool would surely run it into the ground.

Indeed, the only person there who didn't grate on his very nerves was the one that he should hate the most.

* * *

"You absolute bastard."

Eric craned his head, searching for that distinctive voice sounding off behind him. Once his gaze settled on that familiar elven face, he gave a wide, shit-eating grin as he turned to face him.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my dear pointy-eared ginger. After all these years, that's the first thing you say to me?"

It had been a few hours since Heidi was put into the ground, and already Eric had gorged himself on the food and drink at the reception. Kyle frowned at this, crossing his arms.

"I don't know what I expected, seeing you again. I thought that you would have matured, but apparently not, since you seem to be living it up at the catering table-"

"Ey, come on, you gotta live a little sometimes in your old age." He chuckled, sipping at a glass of wine. "You should really try it, elf, maybe it'll get that twig out of your ass."

The elf in question scoffed at this. "You know full well that human alcohol is poisonous to me."

Eric rolled his eyes, "Please, don't insult my intelligence. If I wanted you dead your head would be on a pike by the front gates as we speak. Here," The wizard waved his hand, making a full glass of elven peach wine appear out of thin air. "Have some. It's my treat."

"You speak of decapitating me, and yet you expect me to take a  bottle of wine from you?"  
  
"Yes~"  
  
Kyle, looking at him with suspicion, reluctantly took the bottle from him. The wizened human smiled at this, and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.  
  
"See, that wasn't so bad now, was it Kahl?"  
  
A sigh left his lips, then the elf started to chuckle in amusement. "You never change, do you."  
  
"Nope!" Eric beamed at Kyle, practically buzzing with energy. To the courtiers that watched the two rulers from afar, it was quite the foreign sight. No one below the age of seventy had ever seen the Wizard King act with such youthful enthusiasm. There was malice, yes, and unforgiving anger to go along with it, but his cruelty did not ever burn hot, as the King was always cold to everyone around him.  
  
He was never warm.  
  
The crowd's murmurs did not go unnoticed to Eric. Schooling his face, he winked at Kyle. "C'mon, let's ditch these assholes." Before the Elf King could say anything more, he grabbed his sleeve and snuck him away from the ball room, leaving the two in a secluded hallway.  
  
"Wha- whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute there! Stop it this instant!" Kyle yanked his arm out of the wizard's grip. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Getting us some more privacy, that's what."  
  
"Privacy!? Why the hell do we need privacy! Don't you realize how suspicious this looks-"  
  
"Who the hell cares what they think!? This is the first time that I've seen your face since I was twenty fucking years old, you goddamned son of a bitch, and you-"  
  
"Don't call my mom a bitch Eric!"  
  
A tense silence hung in the air. Then, with a raspy, aging voice, Eric spoke.  
  
"Your mom's dead."  
  
Kyle blinked. "Along with your wife. You don't seem to care."

"No. I don't. You don't either."

The elf, hunching his shoulders, glared at him with indignation. "How dare you say something like that. Of course I care! She was... she was a good Queen..."

"Yes. She was. But never as good as you."

Tears started to build up in the redhead's eyes. As they flowed down his cheek, staining his bone white skin, a coarse, withered thumb wiped it away.

"I would have married you, you know."

"No. You wouldn't have."

With that, Kyle walked away, and Eric never saw him again.


End file.
